


As the World Moves On

by InTheShadows



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Basically Harry just talks A LOT, Dialogue Heavy, Drama, HP: EWE, Harry Has Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Dumbledore bashing, Monologue, Nightmares, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Pre-Slash, Rants, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 21:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11216490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheShadows/pseuds/InTheShadows
Summary: When Draco falls into a coma after the Battle of Hogwarts, he is admitted to St Mungo's and forgotten. He has no cards, no flowers, no visitors, nothing. Nothing, that is, until Harry stumbles across his room one day. (And then keeps coming back.)





	As the World Moves On

**Author's Note:**

> prompt fill from [Drarry Prompt of the Day](http://drarrypromptoftheday.tumblr.com/): After the Wizarding War, Draco slips into a coma and his only visitor is Harry.  
> It's pretty self-explanatory.

The people cheer and cry and scream around them. Draco stands, huddled with his family – alive, _they are all alive –_ among them. It seems too good to be true. Potter did it. He actually did it. The Dark Lord is dead. He is free. _They are free._

But then he hears louder screaming – a furious shout. A curse. He sees a wand pointed at his Mother. No. Not now. Not after He is dead. Not after they have all survived. He doesn't think in this moment. All he can do is act.

He moves, shielding his Mother with his body, shoving her away. A purple light hits him. All he feels is pain. It consumes him from the inside out. It is worse than the cruciatus curse. _Pain_.

And then nothing at all.

.

.

.

In St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, there is a room that has no visitors. Mediwitches go in, take care of the basic needs and leave again. Healers check for changes, see none and then go on their way. There are no cards, no flowers, no cute stuffed dragons or unicorns left on the table. No well wishers to stop by and peek in. No one to talk to the still body lying in the bed.

The room seems to be almost forgotten. Abandoned. No one wants to go in there.

Not until Harry Potter arrives, that is.

.

.

.

Harry gives a weary smile at the Mediwitch as she heals his shoulder, going on about what a hero he is and how thankful she is that he defeated Voldemort. It has been like this for the past few months. Everywhere he goes, he has people thanking him, touching him, asking him for a signature, a picture.

He remembers Lockhart with a snort. Maybe he _should_ take a page out of the man's book and start carrying signed pictures around. It would save him both time and effort. Some days he can barely walk down the street without being mobbed. So maybe...

But no, that would only encourage them.

As bad as they are, at least they aren't the people who want something from him. Well, not much of anything that is. There are other people who want favors. Advice. His face on their products. His name endorsing them. A quote saying he supports this and that. They hound him on the streets and they hound him via his mail. Bill has had to add wards to the Burrow, where he is currently staying, to sort through it all.

And he won't even mention the marriage offers he gets per day.

When the Witch is done, he thanks her with a smile and leaves. Instead of exiting right away, where he is sure there will be reporters waiting for him, he wanders around the floor. People wave and nod, but miraculously, no one bothers him here. The Healers ignore him and the visitors are too preoccupied to crowd him.

A flash of familiar blonde catches in the corner of his eye. He stops and looks in. There, laying pale and motionless in the bed, is Draco Malfoy. Harry only thinks about it a second before he walks in. The room is so bare, as if he was stuck in here and forgotten about. There's no real color in the room, only white. The only furniture in here beside the bed is a small table and an uncomfortable looking chair.

He sits down in it and stares. The boy beside him looks unhealthy – too thin, shadows under his eyes, skin lifeless. He knew that Malfoy was in a coma, thanks to a curse he took for Narcissa. But this? This was not want Harry was expecting. Shouldn't coma patients look at least... rested? Or peaceful? Because Malfoy looks like neither of those two things.

He just looks to still.

“Hey Malfoy,” he says, just to break the silence, “bet I'm the last person you'd expect to visit. That would make two of us.”

There's no response, not even a twitch. Not that Harry was expecting one.

“Doesn't look like you've had any visitors at all actually,” he continues, “I'm only here because I needed someone to fix my shoulder. The hospital, not your room, I mean,” he corrects, blushing. He's thankful no one is here to see him. “I got hit with a cutting hex during training. Auror training. They let anyone who fought in the War in, whether they have their NEWTs or not. Both me and Ron are in the program. Hermione, to no one’s surprise, is going back to Hogwarts. She can’t dream of not finishing. She’s planning on going on and majoring in law in uni. I pity anyone who opposes her once she’s done. It’s going to be weird, not seeing her everyday. We’ve lived in each other’s pockets this past year. Now it’s only me and Ron. Well, not only. There's a number of DAs joining the Auror program.

“That's the name of the club I started in fifth year. DA – Dumbledore's Army because we were sassy and wanted to piss the Minister off. That part definitely worked. Merlin, what a year. You were a right arse you know. I mean, being on that damn Squad may have been one of the worse things you've ever done. And I'm counting being a Death Eater in this. We both know you were a shitty Death Eater.”

Harry sighs. “Not that I imagine you care about any of this. I can hear you now, sneering at me, telling me to go whine to someone who cares. You're right, I suppose. I have no idea why I'm telling you any of this besides that fact you can't tell me to belt it. Everyone wants something from me right now. It's refreshing to be around someone who doesn't,” he snorts, “Mainly because you can't.”

“Merlin, I must sound pathetic. Alright, so you probably want so real news. Um, both of your parents are fine. Narcissa wasn't hurt at all from the person who cursed you. I'm sure you won't be surprised to know it was someone on the Light side, deciding to kill some more Death Eaters. But both of your parents are on house arrest. That's why they haven't come to visit. I tried to get them visitation rights, but no one would listen.

“Why would they listen, you ask?” Harry adds, to make himself feel less like a twit about this, “I was involved in their trials. I was involved in, well... call it many, trials. It seems like all these two months have been. I've only been in training for three days now. But, anyways, Narcissa got two years and Lucius got five years. Snape... he died. I'm sorry, I know he was your Godfather. He was a spy for the Light all along.”

Harry drops his head into his hands. “He protected me all these years. He had to act like he hated me – and he probably wasn't acting either. Merlin knows we never got on. But he was my Mum's best friend for years. He promised to look after me because of her. Yeah, it seems everything _does_ lead back to me eventually. Sorry about that. I would change it if I could.

“All I have ever wanted was a family. Someone who would love me and take care of me and _hug_ me, once in awhile. When I was told I was a wizard, I couldn’t believe it. Magic? That’s how I could do all that freaky stuff as a kid? I was a wizard. I never knew until Hagrid told me, on my eleventh birthday. I know he has his faults, but he’s really great. He gave me my first present, you know. Hedwig,” he chokes on her name. He misses her. Merlin how he misses her. She was so much more than an owl. She was his first friend as well.

He clears his throat. “But anyways,” he shakes his head to clear it farther, “Magic. All my life I was told there was no such thing. The word was banned in the house. Even hinting at it got me in trouble. You can imagine what a shock it was. So then I find out that not only was I a wizard, I was famous at that. Going from being reviled to being worshipped. It’s not an easy transition. I went from nothing to everything. I don’t recommend it. But given that, it’s easier to see how I reacted the way I did. I found I was a wizard, that my parents were actually murdered by Voldemort and that he was a Slytherin, all in one breath practically.

“I knew nothing, only that ‘there wasn’t a wizard that didn’t go bad that was in Slytherin’,” he quotes, “Yeah, that sounds dumb now, I know. But I was eleven and not very smart. The first person who was ever nice to me told me Slytherins were evil. I believed him. And it’s not as if you made that great of an impression either. You reminded me of my cousin back then. That’s not a good thing.

“But you don’t need to hear any of that. Hogwarts is being rebuilt as we speak. It looks like it is going to be open again in time for the next school year, for all the damage it took,” he grins, “I love magic. I really do. I may not always like the Magical World, but I’ve always loved magic itself. Mcgonagall is going to be the Headmistress. Maybe if you wake up in time, you can go back too. You can hang out with Hermione,” he smirks at the thought. “Oh, that’s right, I didn’t mention it, did I? You’ve been pardoned. They already had your trial too. And yes, I was there too. I told them how you saved us at the Manor. And how you couldn’t kill Dumbledore.

“I was there that night. Did you know? I saw everything. I heard what he said to you. I heard what you said to Dumbledore. They know you were only trying to help your family. Family has taken on a new meaning, now that so many people have been lost. It’s even more important than before. That’s why I thought I could get your parents permission to see you.”

He sighs again. “Everyone wants to hear what I have to say until I say something they don’t like. Then, it’s a different story. Hypocrites. The Wizarding World is filled with them. In fact, if I had to sum up this World up in one word, that’s what I would use. Sure, there are some great people in it. Brave people, willing to fight for what is right. People who don’t believe every word the Daily Prophet prints as if it is the Bible. But as a whole?” He snorts, “I sound cynical don’t I? Well I feel it. These are the people who expected a _kid_ to protect them. I was fifteen when they started looking to me for protection again. _Fifteen_. It didn’t matter that I was a kid. Not that I ever was one, but,” he shrugs.

“Fame is terrible. I know you always loved being the center of attention, but I can’t imagine why. How do you keep from cracking under the pressure. Under the weight of all their expectations. Although I guess you know about that too. It’s the reason you have the Dark Mark on your arm. I hated sixth year. Not as much as you, I imagine, but it was _really_ bad. Of course, what year wasn’t bad? It was the calmest year I’ve had in school, but I still hate it the most. Not just because Dumbledore died, but because everything was so _real_ by then.

“I knew the prophecy. I knew I was the only one who could kill Voldemort. And I knew the time was coming when I would have to, ready or not. I think I even knew that I wasn’t going back my Seventh year. Not consciously, but I knew I was leaving the only home I’ve ever had to go out and fight.” He shakes his head. “I should go. I don’t even know why I’m here in the first place. See you Malfoy.”

He walks out of the room.

.

.

.

“Hey Malfoy. Bet you didn’t think I would be back,” he greets as he walks into the room and sits down, “I didn’t either,” he admits. “But I was on the floor anyways, so I thought I would stop by. I owled your parents, by the way. Bloody weird, but I did. I wanted to reassure them you were doing fine. Or as fine as you can be, being in a coma and all. I haven’t gotten a response. Not that I’m expecting one. If it’s weird for me, it was be bizarre for them. Hearing from the person who killed their Lord _and_ kept them from Azkaban? But I wanted to. Hermione says I have a ‘people saving thing’,” he quotes. “She might be right. But don’t tell her I said that.”

He shifts in the chair. “If magic is so much better, why can’t they make these chairs more comfortable? They’re bloody hard.” Of course, it probably doesn’t help that he has just had his back realigned either. Bloody blasting curse. “It’s been a week since my last visit, in case you care. Not much has changed since then. I’m still in Auror training, still getting mobbed and drown in mail. Even with the wards Bill put up, I still do. It sorts out anything harmful and divides the letters into different piles. But there are just so _many_ of them. The Burrow doesn’t have the room to hold all of them. That’s where I’m staying right now - with the Weasleys.

“I know you don’t like them, but they’ve always taken care of me. Ever since the first time, they’ve welcomed me into the family. They treat me as one of their own. Yeah, their poor, but none of them have ever lacked in anything. They’ve never gone hungry and they’ve never doubted they were loved. It’s funny really. Ron has always been so jealous of me and my fame and money. He never seems to understand that I would trade him in a heartbeat if I could. He can have it. As long as I can have his family, he can have my life. I’ve already told you want I think about fame.

“Ginny and I are back together as well. I’m surprised she waited actually. Not because I think she’s fickle or unable to or anything. But even with everything going on, she waited for me to come back to her. It’s been... good. It’s been good,” he repeats. “Sometimes I can’t believe I have all of this. I never thought I would. I never thought I would see the end of the War. Yeah, I knew I would defeat Voldemort, but I thought I would die with him. I _did_ die. I came back, obviously. But I did die.

“There’s a reason Voldemort thought I was dead after all. I mean, how many times can a person survive the Killing Curse, right? Well so far I’m up to two. I’d rather not find out if I can survive a third. The chances aren’t good. There were... special circumstances that let me do it the second time. It won’t work again. Thank Merlin. It wasn’t a comfortable thought, learning what I did. There’s a reason Dumbledore only told me at the end. Or, he forced Snape to tell me. I can understand why he waited. I’ve never felt so dirty in my life.

“I haven’t even told Ron and Hermione about this part. I can’t bare to. They know I went to the forest, but they don’t know what actually went on in their. Or, they know what everyone else knows - I went in, Voldemort hit me with the Killing Curse, Narcissa lied to him and said I was dead and then Hagrid carried me out. That’s all. That’s all I want them to know. I can’t... I can’t bare to tell them about this. It’s... it’s too,” he shakes his head.

“But it doesn’t matter because it’s over. It’s over. It’s gone. It’s best forgotten because it doesn’t matter anymore. There’s nothing to be gained from telling them now. It would only make them worry needlessly. What’s the point? We all have enough on our minds without adding to it. I survived and that’s all that matters. Nothing else.

“I saved the world and now I get my happy ending. That’s it. I shouldn’t even be here. It’s time to move on, not wallow in the past.”

He stands up and leaves.

.

.

.

“Did I say everything was good last time? Well I lied,” Harry informs the comatose boy as he sits. “Everything is a bloody nightmare, including my life. I know I never expected to live this

long, but if I did, I had it all planned out. I would become an Auror and marry Ginny. We would be happy together and have two, maybe three kids. Their names would be Lily, James and, I don’t know, maybe Severus. Why the hell not? I would get to help people daily, doing what I loved to do. Everything was going to be perfect.”

He snorts. “I’m sure you know how dreams don’t meet realities. Nothing is right. I have bloody nightmares every night. I wake up screaming bloody murder, seeing the faces of the dead all around me. They keep telling me it was my fault they died. That I should have been quicker. That I should have been smarter. That I should have done more. That I saved everyone else, I should have been able to save them as well.

“That’s even when I can sleep. I’ve always had insomnia. It’s one of the reasons I wandered the halls so much at Hogwarts. I just couldn’t sleep. Now it’s even worse. I don’t want to sleep half the time because I know I’m going to have nightmares when I do. And since I don’t want anyone knowing, I’m trapped in bed, just staring at the ceiling, listening to Ron and Hermione breathe. Yeah, they’re sharing a bed. We’ve all sharing a room. But that’s because that’s what we’ve been doing this past year. It’s too weird sleeping alone.

“Of course that means I have to add silencing charms around my bed. I don’t want to wake them up. I’m not the only one with nightmares. Ginny is mad that I won’t let her join us. She wants to sleep in my bed. But how can I let her? She’d never get any sleep. She claims it’s fine if I wake her up, that she has nightmares too. But I’ve seen other people's’ nightmares and they’re nothing like mine. I can’t let anyone deal with that. I have to myself.

“I even had a bloody panic attack the other day. Thank Merlin no one was around to see it or I’d never hear the end of it. What kind of Saviour has panic attacks? Not a very good one. I keep seeing Death Eater robes out of the corner of my eye. I almost hexed Ron because I didn’t hear him come up behind me. I feel like Moody - constant vigilance! It seems as if I’m always on my guard, even if I know I’m safe.

“I have a Godson that I haven’t seen yet because he reminds me of Remus too much. I know we were never very close, but he was the last link to my parents. The last link I had to Sirius. And now he’s gone. And Tonks is gone and little Teddy is an orphan, just like me. I promised to look after him if anything happened to them, but I still don’t even know what he looks like. I’m a terrible Godfather. At least Sirius had an excuse of not being able to raise me. Me? What do I have? An inability to get over myself and move on, that’s what.

“Add to that, I think my job is trying to kill me. You know why I am here? I’m here because I keep getting injured in Auror training. I’ve had to come here three times in three weeks. And these are just the times I can’t heal myself. I’ve been injured almost constantly since I started. Either they go harder on me because I’m the Man-Who-Lived-Twice,” he rolls his eyes, “and they think I can handle it. Or else they use something I don’t know the counter form and it ends up hitting me.

“They sneer that I should be able to prove myself. They laugh and say I’m a natural. They look at me in awe and assume I already know everything. How? Some of them have years of experience on me. Yeah, DADA is my best subject and yeah, I’m good at it. But there’s more to it than that. And if it’s this bad now, how much worse is it going to get when I’m a full fledged Auror? Will I even be able to be in the field? Too many people recognize me.

“Even now, I’m still getting mobbed if I’m not glamoured when I leave the Burrow. I walk into... anywhere and suddenly I’m surrounded. I don’t even have room to _breathe_. How could I work like that? It’s hard enough to live with. Am I ever going to be able to walk down the street without a disguise? And what about people like Moody, who can see glamour? Who might be able to see through it? Or have devices that can detect it?

“I still have the weight of the world on my shoulders,” he sighs, “I know, that sounds horribly dramatic. I should just deal with it. It’s how my life is, after all. It’s how it’s been, even if it wasn’t ever this bad. I’ve had to deal with it since I was eleven. I should be use to it by now. But I’m not. Sometimes, I still find it hard to believe. I still feel like the unwanted freak under the stairs. No one wanted me then. How can these people want me now?

“It gets even better. Now that all the trials are done, it is time for the award ceremonies. And guess who is the star guest in all of them? They want me to speak at them. They want me to be an icon. But the only speeches I’ve ever made are Quidditch speeches. And an icon? It makes me feel like a thing, not a person. Sometimes that’s all I am to them. I’m not a real person with thoughts and feelings and opinions. I am a thing to put on display. A hero on a pedestal. They think I owe them something. Didn’t I do enough when I killed Snake Face? But no, they want more still. They’ll always want more. They’ll keep pulling and pulling until they consume me.”

He puts his head in his hands. “All I’ve ever wanted to be was just Harry. But who _is_ Harry? I don’t even know. I’ve never been able to learn. Seventeen and I still don’t know anything about myself. How sad it that? You were right when you said I was nothing special. I’m not. I’m _really_ not. I just wish other people would understand that as well.”

He walks out of the room without another word.

.

.

.

“So I quit my job today. Don’t know what the hell I’m going to do now, but this was the last straw. I about had my neck snapped today. _My neck_. Forget the Killing Curse, that is something you definitely do not come back from. I just spent the past five hours paralyzed because they needed time to fix the damage. Do you know how terrifying it is to be awake and not able to move? You’re still aware of everything around you, but you can’t do anything about it. You are completely helpless.

“And the wanker who did it didn’t even have the grace to apologize for it. As if it was _my_ fault I got injured. Well fuck that. Fuck all of them. I am done with it. They can find a new poster boy for their program, I have had it. I sent my letter in and Kingsley can eat it that it’s not in an official format. That’s who our new Minister of Magic is, by the way. Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was in the Order of the Phoenix.

“He’s doing a good job of things so far. With the mess our World is in, I’m surprised he can get anything done. But he has. Better than Fudge, that’s for sure. Better than Scrimgeour too. As if I would ever support the Ministry.” He pauses for a moment, letting that sink in. “Yup, I just said that. I now have official proof about what an idiot I am. I mean, I meant the Ministry under Scrimgeour. I refused because they never did me any good. But can one Minister change that?”

Harry slumps into the chair and laughs. “It gets even better. You know how I first got the idea to be an Auror. _From a Death Eater_ ,” he emphasizes, giggling to himself. “Well, it sounds bad when I put it like that. I didn’t know he was a Death Eater at the time. I thought he was Moody. I’m sure you remember Moody. I imagine it’s hard to forget the person who turned you into the bloody bouncing ferret. But he was really Barty Crouch Jr. Did you ever have to work with him? I feel sorry for you if you did.

“He’s a right arse. He was the reason Voldemort’s resurrection happened. Well, him and Wormtail,” he sneers the name. “He turned the Cup into a portkey. If he hadn’t maybe Cedric would still be alive.” Just another death in the long list of those that haunt Harry. Cedric’s dead eyes stare at him accusingly at night. Just another ghost he carries with him as he goes on.

“The nightmares aren’t getting better. I think they’re getting worse. I’ve moved into George’s room now. Ginny threw an absolute fit about it. But he found out about them and insisted. It’s the first time I’ve seen him take an interest in anything since Fred died. Even if it is only worry about my sleep... his eyes were alive again. The loss of his twin has been hard on him. He doesn’t joke anymore. Doesn’t laugh. He just stares off into space, face vacant. But when he asked... not many people know it, but I was close with the twins. They were the older brothers I’ve never had. Sure, they were pranksters, but they could be serious. There wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for me.

“We were close and now Fred is gone. I thought I was going to lose both of them. I couldn’t deny George when he told me to move in with him. Turns out I’m not the only one with screaming nightmares. He’s been hiding behind silencing charms as well. We wake each other nightly, but for all that, I feel better about sleeping. I know I won’t be trapped in my dreams. I know I won’t be alone. I know Ron and Hermione would do it too, but... I can’t ask that of them. They’ve been through so much because of me. How can I add to that now?”

He sighs. “Do you ever feel like such a burden to someone that you think they would be better off without you? It’s been a thought lately. I mean, I put those around me through so much. Ever since first year, Ron and Hermione have been dragged into my adventures. Sirius died because he was trying to rescue me. The Weasleys think of me as family, but I’m not. Not really. They don’t need another child. Especially not one as much trouble as I am.

“I can’t even imagine what a pain it was to try and protect me through the years. I certainly didn’t make it easy. My recklessness had to cause several gray hairs on the heads of those responsible. Wouldn’t it have been better if I wasn’t around. Maybe if my parents had another kid, they would still be alive Sirius could have lived his life, not spent it in Azkaban. Remus wouldn’t have lost his pack. People would still be alive.

“I mean, I’m not suicidal or anything. I just wonder... would it be better if I would disappear? They don’t need me, not really. The World at wide certainly doesn’t need me. Why not just vanish? What would it matter?” He stares up at the ceiling. “Rationally, I know I have people who would miss me. People who need me. I matter to them. But emotionally? It’s hard sometimes to reassure myself that it’s true. That I’m not useless now that I've killed Voldemort.

“That was my purpose after all. I was prophesied to kill Voldemort and I did. Now what? I am expected to become an Auror, marry Ginny and have a happy, wonderful life,” he snorts. “It sounds like something straight out of a storybook. ‘The hero killed the villain, married the princess and lived happily ever after. The end.’ What a load of rot. Not that it’s like that with Ginny. I’m not with her because I have to be. But the rest...” he trails off.

“Have I ever been allowed to live my life the way I want?” he asks, “I mean, _really_ want, if there was no War, no pressure, no expectations. Or have I conformed to the roles they expect? The Gryffindor Golden Boy. The Chosen One. The Quidditch Star. The Hero of the Wizarding World.

“The hat almost put me in Slytherin, you know. I begged it not to. I didn’t want to be in the House everyone said was evil. I was shunned enough as a kid. This was my second chance. I didn’t want to mess it up by being labelled ‘evil’ or ‘dark’. It didn’t help that you were a right prat of course. I already said what I thought of you back then. So, yeah, you played a part, but not the only part.

“Bet you know about living up to the world’s expectations. It couldn’t have been easy being the Malfoy heir. There was a certain way you were expected to act, to think and talk, wasn’t there? You had to live up to the title Slytherin Prince just as much as I had to be the Golden Boy. It couldn’t have been easy. I know I was an arse about it sometimes. It just got too much. But I had to carry on because what else could I do?

“Just like we were both born on our side of the War. It was decided before we were even conceived. It wasn’t about right and wrong - not at first. It was about what side we were expected to be on. I bet you didn’t see anything wrong with Voldemort before he came back. How could you? You spent your entire life learning that he was the one to follow. That he was right and the Light was wrong. We could have easily traded places, with the same results.

“Funny how life turns out, isn’t it?”

.

.

.

“Remember those award ceremonies I told you about? They’re finally done, _thank Merlin_. I couldn’t take anymore of it. They are long and boring and bloody propaganda filled. If I had to hear about _one_ more person talking about their agenda for ‘the Greater Good’, well, let’s not discuss what I was considering. It wasn’t legal, I will tell you that. I don’t mind people getting the credit they deserve - I hardly won this War by myself - but there are so many other people who don’t deserve it that are claiming it. As if they ever lifted a wand against _a fly_ let alone a Death Eater.

“Thankfully I only had to speak at one of them, but that was bad enough. Everyone keeps asking me what I am going to do now. Have I considered this or that? If I was interested, they would certainly be glad to introduce me to so and so. What is my opinion of this subject or that law? Bloody hell if I know. I looked like a right fool And do you know _why_ I looked like a fool?” he growls and takes a deep breath, “but no. It doesn’t matter because he is dead and I refuse to get into an argument with a bloody portrait.

“Anyone who fought in a battle got an Order of Merlin, Third Class. Everyone who was in the Battle of Hogwarts received an Order of Merlin, Second Class. The most of the Order of the Phoenix got First Class. Of course I did...” he hesitates, “I made sure Snape did too. I actually have it here. I also have your wand with me. You have no idea how thankful I am for it. Without it, I don’t know if I could have beaten Voldemort or not. I figured you would like it back. Don’t worry, it’s warded. No one else can touch it but you.

“You’ll be happy to hear that Hogwarts is fully rebuilt. It’s odd to think that the school year has already started and I’m not there. Hermione wanted us to come back, but I couldn’t. For all that it was my first home... it has too many memories. I can’t. I’m still plagued by nightmares. I need more time.”

He sits there, playing with Draco’s wand. The Order of Merlin sits proudly on the bedside table. Staring at it, he can feel his anger rising again. “Lord Harold James Potter-Black. That’s my name. Lord Potter-Black. Did you know? Because I sure as hell didn’t. I had no idea my father was a Lord. I didn’t know Sirius made me his heir. I didn’t know any of it until that damn ceremony. _No idea_. And do you know _why_ I had no idea? Because _someone_ never bothered to _tell me_ ,” he growls.

“I could have been emancipated at sixteen because I was the last of my line. Hell, I could have been emancipated at the Triwizard Tournament because only _adults_ can compete. Doesn’t matter that I didn’t put my name in. I was considered an adult. But did anyone tell me? No. Of course not. For the Greater Good. _I hate that phrase_ ,” he snarls, “Merlin how I _hate_ that phrase. Always for the Greater Good. Never for the individuals, but for the whole. Didn’t he know without the individuals, there would be _no_ whole?

“But oh no, we can’t have that. We can’t tell Harry the truth. We can never tell Harry what is going on. It might be useful. He might actually know what is happening then. He claimed to care about me, but how could he do this to me,” a sob escapes, “How? This doesn’t have anything to do with the prophecy. It doesn’t have anything to do with me being a kid. Why couldn’t Dumbledore tell me this? For once, why couldn’t he just tell me,” he bites his tongue to stop another sob and pure frustration and hurt from passing his lips. If he starts, he may not be able to stop.

“He claimed he cared too much for me. And I believed him at the time. Maybe it was even true. But why did he do what he did? Hell, he even admitted... admitted,” he can’t get the words out, “He said when I arrived at Hogwarts, I wasn’t as happy or healthy as he hoped, but I still was. I was as ‘normal of a boy as he could hope _under the circumstances_ ’,” he quotes, sneering, “He knew. He knew what went on it _that house_ and he didn’t care. _He didn’t care_.” Another sob, one he can’t suppress. “Better for me to be alive and a little beat up than dead I guess.

“Who cares if for the first six years or so, I thought my name was Freak? Who cares if I was worked like a house elf from the day I could walk? Who cares if the only reason I was in school was because the neighbors noticed me and reported them? Who cares if they told everyone I was a liar and a criminal? Who cares if I was forced to worse than my cousin - who was as smart as Goyle looked? Who cares how _that_ affected my schooling abilities when I got to Hogwarts? Who cares if my first hug was from Mrs Weasley and I had no idea what to do with it? Who cares that I slept in the cupboard under the stairs before I got my Hogwarts letter? Who cares if I never wore clothes that fit and never had enough to eat? Who cares if I was smacked around sometimes? _Who cares as long as I could do my duty and die like a good little soldier_?

Harry collapses into himself, breathing hard. He shakes with emotions, gripping his hair and pulling it. “Even after he told me it was kill or be killed, he never really trained me,” he continues, “I mean, my signature move was the _disarming charm_ for Merlin’s sake. What good is _that_ going to do in a _War_? Sure, he gave me lessons - if you can call them that - on Tom Riddle. That’s Voldemort’s real name, by the way,” he adds absently, “Know your enemy kind of thing. But he never taught me how to fight. And he never really told me how to kill Voldy. He put most the pieces in front of me, but I was the one who had to figure it out. What would have happened if I was as stupid as everyone seems to assume I am? Did he assume Hermione would be the one to crack it?

“Hermione complains that I have a hero complex. It’s true, I do. But that’s hardly _my_ fault, is it? I’ve been trained, almost since birth to have one. Handy little feature, that. I learned that if I didn’t do it, no one else would. Certainly not an adult. Adults were _not_ to be trusted. And having the expectations of a World on your shoulders doesn’t help either. It was already a fact in their minds that I was going to save them. Was it any wonder I acted the way I did?”

He sighs. “I said he cared, but why do I feel like a chess piece instead? A more valuable one, sure, but a chess piece nonetheless.”

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“I broke up with Ginny,” Harry announces as soon as he walks into the room. He sags into the chair, relieved not to have to hold himself up anymore. “It wasn’t working between us. Not like it should. It’s just so different now. _I_ feel different now. The War changed us all, but I feel so much more different than anyone else. Maybe because I’ve been fighting, one way or another, my entire life. First at the Dursleys, than at Hogwarts. Maybe it’s because I died. Maybe it’s just how I am. But I feel miles away from anyone else.

“Hell, you are the person I talk to the most and you can’t even talk back. How sad is it that I feel closer to you right now than my best friends? I’m sure you think it’s pretty sad indeed. After all, who can imagine the two of us actually getting along? The world might end. But somewhere along the line you’ve become my personal therapist. I’ve told you more than I’ve ever told any other person.”

He runs a hand through his hair, making it even messier than normal. “It... wasn’t a good break up. And ironically it wasn’t Ginny that caused the most trouble. She understood. We are both different people now and we need different things. We are still friends. It was Ron and Mrs Weasley that didn’t take it well. Mrs Weasley was just looking forward to me officially being part of the family. Not that I’m kicked out. She assured me of that enough times.

“Ron... Ron was worried I broke his little sister’s heart. He’s always been a bit protective of her after our second year, even if he doesn’t like to admit it. He was thrilled when we started dating actually. And...” he sighs, “He was disappointed. He is planning on proposing the Hermione when she graduates and he was hoping it was something we could do together. A double wedding, I mean, not a double proposal.

“It’s just... awkward. I’ve moved back into Sirius’ old house. It needs some _major_ remodeling, but it’s fine. I have nothing but time right now. I still haven’t decided what I want to do. And it’s not as if I can’t afford it. I never have to work again, if I don’t want to.

“Turns out my fairy tale ending is completely undone now.”

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“Malfoy!” Harry shouts happily as he enters the room, “I finally know what I am going to do.” He is grinning ear to ear and _so_ thankful Malfoy isn’t aware of him. He probably looks like an idiot, but he doesn’t care. He finally has something to do again.

A purpose.

“I,” he says grandly, “am going to start the Marauders Home for the Lost,” he waves his hands as he does, “Great name huh? Well, maybe you don’t think so, but I do. It was the name my Dad, Sirius and Remus called themselves when they were in school. Technically, Wormtail was with them too, but he doesn’t count anymore. But isn’t it a great idea?” He finally sits down in the chair.

“I can’t believe I never thought of it before. Not that it’s anything anyone talks about. It seems like such a stupid thing. We are a separate society, but we don’t have our own orphanage? How much sense does that make? About as much sense as everything else around here I guess. And given how much that does...” he trails off. “But I am definitely going to set one up now. Maybe if there was one before this, Voldemort would have never existed.

“I mentioned before that Voldy’s real name was Tom Riddle right? Tom Marvolo Riddle. His Mum - Merope Gaunt, a witch - used a love potion on his Dad - a muggle - so he would marry her. But after she was pregnant she stopped giving it to him and he left. He died after she gave birth to him at the local orphanage. From that time on, he was bullied because there was something different about him. Obviously they could sense his magic and that made him a freak...” he pauses.

“I really hate that word, you know. Out of all the words out there, if I could get rid of one, it would be ‘freak’. I hate it even more than I hate the word ‘mudblood’. And considering that I think of Hermione as a sister,” he shakes his head. “Maybe if Riddle was loved and cared for as a child, he wouldn’t have turned into a Dark Lord.

“Dumbledore gave me these lessons so I would understand how he thinks. So I would know how to destroy him. And it worked. But not for the reasons he assumed it did. I did because I truly understood Tom Riddle. We had so much in common - both unwanted orphans, both Half Bloods raised by Muggles, both powerful parselmouths. We even look similar - er, that is, when you compare what he looked like at sixteen, not after he went all snake face. I like my nose right where it is, thank you very much.

“So I am going to make sure that never happens to another child ever again. I am going to open an orphanage where they can be loved and cared for, just like they deserve.

“I’m going to push for other changes as well. A better system for Muggleborns for one thing. Leaving them in the dark until they are eleven? Terrible system. How many parents have been needlessly worried about the weird things their child can do? How many take it out on the children themselves? How many children are scared of what they can do? How many want to learn more, but can’t? Isn’t the number one complaint about Muggleborns is that they don’t respect Wizarding culture? But how can they when they are never given a chance to learn. They find out about this new World at eleven and are thrown into it without warning. It is either sink or swim.

“Not everyone is good at research. Not everyone is comfortable with this World. Not everyone knows where to look to find the answers they want. They need a way to learn without being ridiculed for not knowing. There needs to be more accountability for them. How much better off would I had been if I knew what the hell was going on? How much more welcoming would Purebloods be if they weren’t so offended? The real problem seems to be knowledge, not blood status. Yeah, that’s what is talked about, but if everyone fit in, would it really be a problem?

“I want to add a Wizarding Culture class to Hogwarts. There’s a Muggle Studies, but not Wizarding Studies?” he snorts, “Yet another _great_ idea. Sure Purebloods or Half Bloods may have to blend in the Muggle World, but we _all_ live in the Wizarding World. So why isn’t there a class on it? It makes no sense. Nothing in this World makes any sense. I’ve been confused since I was eleven. Yeah, yeah, explains a lot, I know. But you have to understand the sheer strangeness of it all when you know nothing about it. Dragons? Spells in Latin? People that can turn into animals? It’s crazy.

“Barring a class at Hogwarts, I think it would be a good idea to have a school for the younger kids. Or maybe not a school, but a day care of some sort. Just... some place they can meet each other and learn. It doesn’t have to be magic. Everyone starts showing magic at different ages. But their history, their culture, their heritage. Give their parents a support system. Or give them a place to run to if they need it. Just... _something_ where they know they are not alone. I think that was one of the worst things when I was growing up. Knowing I was always alone.

“Well no more. I am going to do this even if I have to shame them into it. Not that I think I will need to. I _am_ their Saviour after all. I imagine they will fall over their feet to support me. While normally I wouldn’t use my name like this, I plan on taking all they offer and more. I have no regrets if it helps the children.” He snorts, “I’ve always wanted a family. I just didn’t think this would be the way I would get it. Not that I care if they are related to me or not. But I have a feeling I am going to be swarmed soon.” He smiles, “It’s going to be great.”

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Harry walks into the room with a spring in his step, whistling. Today has been a good day so far. Today has been a _great_ day actually. He sits down in the chair grinning. It’s still uncomfortable, but right now, he doesn’t care, “Hello Malfoy,” he says.

He about jumps out of his skin when Malfoy opens his eyes and greets, “Potter.”

“Malfoy,” he repeats, “you’re awake!”

“Your observational skills know no bounds. I woke up yesterday evening.”

“Oh... er, that’s great,” he rubs the back of his head awkwardly, not sure what to say now that he knows Malfoy isn’t comatose anymore.

“Pixie got your tongue,” Malfoy asks, snidely, “you never shut up before.”

Harry feels himself blush and then pale. Malfoy could hear him all this time? Damn. _Malfoy could hear him all this time._ This is so _not_ good. He didn’t filter himself _at all_ when he talked to the other boy. He has enough blackmail to last him a life time. He could make another small fortune by giving an interview to the Daily Prophet. Hell, _one_ interview? Why not an entire series worth of them? “I don’t suppose you would be willing to forget everything I said, would you?”

Malfoy just gives him a look.

“That’s what I thought,” Harry sighs, “What do you want?”

“Want for what?” he asks. Obviously he’s going to make Harry say it out loud then.

“What do you want so you won’t tell everyone what I told you?”

Malfoy looks vaguely hurt by the question. “After everything you told me, why do you think I would tell anyone?”

“Because you’re a Slytherin.”

“And that makes me evil?”

“That makes you ambitious and sneaky.”

Malfoy preens as if that was a compliment. Bloody bastard.

“So?” he asks, wanting to get this done and over with. Turns out, as well as this day started, it’s not going to end well.

“I want a meal,” he demands.

Harry blinks at him. “What?” That is the _last_ thing he expected. A meal? What the hell?

“Yes, a meal. Preferably more than one really. You _do_ need to repay me for all the therapy sessions you have been coming to,” he says, head up and eyes challenging.

Harry blinks again. What is going on? He is clearly missing something here. But then he looks closely at Malfoy and suddenly, he gets it. He smiles. “Whatever you say Malfoy. Going to demand a fancy restaurant as well?”

“I should. My time is most valuable. However, I seem to recall you claiming you were an excellent cook. I do believe I should test this claim for myself. After all, a Malfoy only deserves the best,” he finishes snootily.

Harry throws his head back and laughs.

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Finite Incantatem

 


End file.
